


Target - 31 Days of Apex - Day 19

by mdpenguino



Series: 31 Days of Apex [19]
Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: 31 Days of Apex (Apex Legends), Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-19
Updated: 2020-07-19
Packaged: 2021-03-04 18:48:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25391131
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdpenguino/pseuds/mdpenguino
Summary: Crypto coming back from a win.
Series: 31 Days of Apex [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1850209
Kudos: 10





	Target - 31 Days of Apex - Day 19

The worst part of the Apex Games, well for Crypto at least, it had to be the forced celebration and ‘fan’ meet-and-greet that happened after a win. It could be anywhere between two minutes and fifteen minutes. It was marketing opportunity, pure and simple. Crypto knew this. He just had to wait for nameless men, dressed up in their suited uniform to whisk him and the other two winning Legends away. But before they could get out of the spotlight, they needed to get back from the arena and off the Dropship.

“You’re like that robot dude.” Octane sent his quip toward Crypto.

“He’s talking about me!” Pathfinder sits up at the use of the word robot. The tone of his voice was as cheery as ever. Typical for a MRVN unit.

“Not you Hermano. The other one.” In Octane’s hand, he twirled his butterfly knife around in his hand, performing tricks. 

“Oh.” Pathfinder’s voice was measured. There was disappointment, but it was like wasn’t actually able to emote sadness. 

Crypto had his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jacket. “I don’t care what you think.” He spoke, dismissing Octane. 

This particular dropship that the Legends found themselves in was one that definitely showed signs of being retrofitted from the Frontier War. Running on the ceiling, were two parallel bars, with small handles hastily welded on at regular intervals. Sure, the Legends could use these, but when there’s benches to sit on, why should they stand?

“You don’t like this part, si?” The blades of his butterfly knife met back up and he closed it shut, tucking it back into one of his pockets. 

“I don’t think I quite get what you mean.” Crypto said, his head tilted, facing the ground, examining the detailed patterns of the metal on the floor, presumably a part of an anti-slip system.

“Sure, you do. This bit where you get to sign letters, postcards and other memorabilia that’s themed around you. What’s not to love? But that other robot, Señor loincloth hates this part too.” 

“I don’t think you know me.” Crypto says dismissively.

Truth is. Crypto didn’t want people to know about him. The fans can be as enamoured with his persona of Crypto. But this was temporary until he can get himself back, until he can get Mila back. And until he can return to being Tae Joon Park. The longer that he’s in the spotlight of being Crypto, the closer his pursuers are to finding out who he really is. He didn’t hate the fame. But he also didn’t care for it. It was all just a distraction. 

Crypto knew it wasn’t long until the Mercenary Syndicate found out his real identity, he couldn’t spend forever right under their nose without them sniffing him out. He knew he had to be more measured with how he approached situations now, and he had to use Hack more. With a new layer of security added, which he hoped would stop it from being hacked again. 

“Approaching landing zone. Please stay seated.” The announcers voice blasted out, now slightly tinned through the old damaged speakers and then reverberating against the hollow metal walls of the dropship. 

“I can’t wait to see my fans!” Pathfinder spoke, unknowingly, he pierced the ever-growing silence between Octane and Crypto. “Maybe I’ll see my creator there.” There was an optimism to his voice. 

“Bless.” Crypto muttered breathlessly.

Five minutes, that’s all it took for the dropship to land and for the three legends to leave. The paperwork for the winnings were done already. And the aforementioned men in suits were there to escort them to the staged area that awaited them. It was as expected, nothing had changed from usual. Three large banners donned their pictures and names. It was not an unusual size for a crowd either. A healthy crowd had also gathered. They all had their memorabilia, things like posters and flyers, Octane was right, as usual. 

Octane and Pathfinder ran up to the barriers where people were pushing up against them. Crypto slowly walked, he was given a pen by one of the syndicate guards and he began to sign. He put his signature of ‘Crypto’ on the flyers. Even pushing the boat out with ‘From Crypto’, he was pushing the boat out, but not quite rocking it. 

The call came out from the guards that the meet-and-greet time was over. And guards walked in front of the three Legends. “Mi?” Crypto called out. He tried to push his way past his guards, but they weren’t budging and the guests were being escorted out. “Mila?” He shouted.  
Octane grabbed him. “You okay there hermano?” He asks, grabbing onto his arm. “Who’s Mila? A fan?” Crypto was still trying to look over the shoulders of the guards and by the time he was able to push past the crowd, they crowd had all but dispersed.

Wriggling free of Octane’s vice like grip, Crypto started into a jog, then a run, finally a sprint, moving up into the desolate courtyard, the wind whipped as it passed by his head. He saw it, far away, getting closer. On the floor. A small black object on the ground. He grasped it in his hand, the fluffy material was still warm. He recognised it a mile away. A beanie. “Mila’s beanie.” He muttered. He spun it around on his hand with a bounce, like how the chefs back on Gaea would work pizza dough.

He could hear Octane and Pathfinder run up behind him, the clanking of their metal legs against the hard concrete. “Friend, what’s wrong?” Bellowed Path’s concerned voice. He didn’t care. If it was Mila’s beanie, it was left here for reason, he searched the outside of the beanie, looking for some sign, some symbol, something. Anything. He turned it inside out. The footsteps increasing in volume. Searching. On the inside was a label, embroidered with a message. It read out: ‘You’re being targeted.’ He clutched the beanie tight to his chest, tears forming in his eyes. It was hers. It was Mila’s.

**Author's Note:**

> Started off not liking the direction of this one. That and writers block hit hard. Then I found a plot beat I liked and went with that. 
> 
> Thank you all for reading <3


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